


private, sacred

by devotchka



Category: Final Fantasy XV
Genre: Hand Jobs, M/M, Spanking, Topping from the Bottom
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-08-01
Updated: 2020-09-16
Packaged: 2021-03-05 23:20:07
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 850
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25653520
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/devotchka/pseuds/devotchka
Summary: “Do you do this when you’re alone?” Ignis asks.Gladio doesn’t say anything. He just focuses on breathing, on staying still, on holding on. His hips want to arch up into Ignis’s touch, and his arms want to push against their restraints. He bites back the urge.“Do you pretend that it’s me, Gladio?”Drabble collection.
Relationships: Gladiolus Amicitia/Ignis Scientia
Comments: 5
Kudos: 44





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Welcome to my Gladnis drabble collection. It’ll probably all be smut.

Gladio isn’t into BDSM.

Collars and bruises and rope are all things that were never quite _his_ thing, never successful at lighting whatever spark it is he lacks to want to inflict pain. Something light is fine – pinning down wrists or simple dirty talk or whatever. It’s plenty enough excitement for him.

And then along came Ignis, and something about him is just made for pushing limits.

Gladio thinks that it’s because getting close to him is like breaching a fortress. It takes long months and slow deliberation to see into him, and it takes much longer than that to earn trust.

Gladio doesn’t know how long he’s had it – just that, at some point, Ignis began accepting his guidance, allowing himself to follow from time to time instead of permanently leading.

It escalates unexpectedly fast.

Gladio has to stop and reflect, sometimes, about this private and sacred thing they do. He thinks about it as he orders Ignis to strip, and Ignis obeys, and he thinks about it as he orders Ignis to bend over his lap.

No one else knows this side of him. No one else has any idea. This is something only _Gladio_ has been given, and he doesn’t want to be frivolous with that trust.

It’s why he doesn’t baby him with the spanking. It’s why he brings his hand down hard – hard enough to bruise – and why he doesn’t let up.

Ignis moans and pleads beneath him, and the limit pushing suddenly becomes intimacy, this free-flowing give and take, this being on the same page.

Gladio never knows how far things will go once they begin. Sometimes it’s just a couple hits, a few red marks. Sometimes it feels like hours, stretching on until Ignis is practically sobbing, until he’s begging Gladio for anything and everything.

Maintaining control is the easy part. Gladio can wrap one hand around Ignis’s wrists and still have the strength to keep them pinned there. He can easily guide Ignis onto the floor, and onto his knees.

It’s just one of those days – a pain seeking one for them both – and foreplay doesn’t cut it.

Ignis’s body is hardly ready, and Gladio knows he must want to scream as he’s filled so violently, the head of his cock ramming into him with cruel swiftness. Ignis’s hands tremble, and he grabs at anything to stop it.

He moans encouragements as Gladio fucks him too hard, as his body rocks against the carpet and his legs spread further for him.

There are reasons why Ignis must like having control taken from him – reasons like this being a break from needing to be perfect, a break from taking care of everything and everyone.

Gladio is more than happy to give it to him.

When it’s over, and they’re both laying in Ignis’s bed – satisfied, exhausted – Gladio asks, “Don’t you have limits?”

Ignis replies without thought, without hesitation. “I trust you.”

“I could hurt you.”

“You won’t.”

The way he says it with such unshakable confidence is the hottest thing in the world, and _that_ , Gladio thinks, is what he might love hearing the most.


	2. Chapter 2

“Do you do this when you’re alone?” Ignis asks.

Gladio doesn’t say anything. He just focuses on breathing, on staying still, on holding on. His hips want to arch up into Ignis’s touch, and his arms want to push against their restraints. He bites back the urge.

“Do you pretend that it’s me, Gladio?”

Gladio can’t help it. He moans. It feels, in some part, like admitting to weakness – like being human is something that he should be ashamed of, like he isn’t supposed to crumble in this way.

Ignis’s grip tightens around Gladio’s cock. His pace stays slow and deliberate, and Gladio’s hands ball into fists behind himself, his body practically begging to tremble. He isn’t sure how long Ignis has had him on the edge like this, and he isn’t sure how much longer he can cope with it.

“Tell me how you like it.” Ignis says, like he doesn’t know, like they don’t do this every chance they can.

Gladio plays into it all too willingly, gasping, “Faster.”

“Good boy.”

He almost moans from the praise alone, and then Ignis is stroking him faster and he really can’t help it, can’t help way he shakes and moans, the way he feels everything. It builds in him like lava, threatening to spill over at any moment.

“You are _such_ a good boy, Gladio.”

His hips roll into Ignis’s grip, and the pressure builds and builds.

“I want you to come for me.”

If it were anyone else – anyone less _dominant_ \-- Gladio might be humiliated by how easy it is for Ignis to get him there, but he isn’t. Things happen naturally (like breathing, like gravity) on Ignis’s command.

“Fuck,” Gladio moans, and just like that his hips are rocking gently, his come soaking Ignis’s fingers. Ignis kisses him, and Gladio loses himself in the moment.

Neither of them talk about it, but as Ignis’s lips press against his own, the first thing Gladio feels is loved.


End file.
